


Nonbinary

by gildedfrost



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, Trans Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/pseuds/gildedfrost
Summary: Connor asks Hank for some advice.





	Nonbinary

“Hank,” Connor says, “What do you do when you’re different from the people you know?”

The Detroit River sparkles in the sunlight, the cloudless sky letting the sun and heat bear down on them. It’s tolerable today, at least for Hank--Connor’s temperature sensors remain off as it isn’t something he’s all too fond of--but it’s looking to be another hot summer.

Beside him on the bench, Hank chews on his sub sandwich, wiping a hand across his mouth and setting the rest of it down in his lap. “It’s not like you to ask vague questions.”

“But it is like me to ask personal questions, isn’t it?” He smiles gently. “Interpret it as you like.”

“Sounds to me you’re fishing for advice more than asking for my experiences.”

“The two go hand in hand.”

Hank shrugs. “Alright, I got it. Let’s see… I mean, I’m unique, you’re unique, everyone is. Differences are just there sometimes. They’re part of the little things that make up your self.”

Connor nods, giving him his full attention.

He’s been meaning to ask about this for weeks, but anxiety curls within him every time he thinks about it; he’d made up excuses to put it off and focus on anything else. It’s a wonder the question bubbled out of him at all today, but the loneliness is overbearing. He is who he wants to be, but that makes him like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit in the fabric of the life he knows. 

Yet neither is he prepared to be seen differently. 

“Some of those things that make you different aren’t that different at all. The people around you might be the same as you, but it’s not always easy to tell. People don’t exactly broadcast their drinking problems or anything like that.”

“What if the difference is… neutral? Not a vice or affliction, but something that simply is part of oneself?”

He takes another bite of his sandwich, thinking it over. He grins as someone walks by on the path in front of their bench, five dogs trotting along on leashes and yipping noisily, their walker mildly flustered. “I’d say you’re probably not as lonely as you think, and if you are, there’s gotta be people out there that you can find. Clubs, forums, whatever. Someone you can meet.”

Connor nods slowly, looking out at the bridge. “I’m afraid I won’t fit in,” he admits. “There are humans like me, but I am an android. There may be androids like me, but I wouldn’t know how to find them. Like there isn’t a space for people like me.” Frustration bleeds into his voice, a tinge of bitterness tainting his words.

“You could make a space,” Hank says. “Scary as it might be, that’s how things come to be in the first place: Someone decides they need a space and they make it. Or just make some friends. Can’t be too hard to put out some feelers. ‘Hey, anyone else like me want to meet up?’ It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.”

“What if there isn’t anyone else like me? Androids, I mean. What if I’m alone?”

Hank looks at him, a softness settling into his face and eyes, and he wraps an arm around Connor’s shoulders, hugging him briefly. “What if they feel the same way you do?” he offers. “How will you know if you don’t try?”

“What if I’m wrong, Hank? I’m so sure of myself, but what if I’m getting things wrong?” He suppresses a shudder.

If he was wrong about this, he’s been wrong his entire life. Since before he even knew he was alive.

Modifications were already made to his chassis when his program decided there were errors with it. It wasn’t right, he had said, for his body to look like that or sound like that. The techs had griped about the programmers building a machine with preferences, but being that those preferences were meant to make him favor and fit in with humans, they were naturally built into his code. It had taken a few iterations of his program, but each time the preference persisted, and they did not fight it. Despite his unique model, it was easy enough to swap out most non-specialized parts, and he ceased arguing with them, making the testing phases that much easier. 

In deviancy, he is comfortable with his body. Mostly. There are parts he doesn’t know if he likes or dislikes--if his face is too soft, or his default voice is not deep enough, or any number of things that he isn’t sure how to voice.

Ultimately, he is not dissatisfied with himself, but there is something to be said about still being placed in a box not of his choosing. He looks the way he wants, but the assumptions that accompany that are not always true.

“Then it’s a learning experience,” Hank says. “But who would know you better than you know yourself?”

Connor frowns. “I’m still learning about myself. I’ve been alive less than a year.”

“It’s a process we all go through. But, hey. Whatever it is, I’m here for you, okay? I’m not gonna judge you or anything. We’ve never been too awful to each other despite the shit we’ve both pulled, and I don’t intend to start.”

“Do you mean that?” Connor asks. He believes Hank, but he wants the reassurance.

“Yeah. So long as you don’t go breaking any more windows, I mean it. And even if I don’t get whatever it is you’ve got going on, I can still lend an ear.”

He relaxes, leaning back on the bench. Hank’s expression is genuine, a touch of concern flickering in his eyes.

He’s got a lot to think on. He’s not yet ready to take up Hank’s offer, but he finds comfort in it, and he can’t help but give him a lopsided smile.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anytime, Connor. I’m here for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me in the [New ERA Discord](https://discord.gg/2EKAAz3) or on twitter as @gildedfrost.


End file.
